


Life & Death

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, For Porn reasons, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hades and Persephone, Love at First Sight, M/M, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, dynamic reversal, i am sorry but im not, im a sucker ok, some pretentious bullshit, spot the pomegranate seed references, they are there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-10 13:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: the Lord of spring is out for a walk, when he has a brush with Death.100% shamelessly inspired by this: https://twitter.com/NeuroticHeroic/status/915002354641993728





	Life & Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [edvic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edvic/gifts).



> the exact notes were as follows, in chat form:  
> graves is persephone, hades is credo, and credo fucks graves in a meadow while wearing his badass long black cloak.  
> what follows is more or less that.

 

                                                                  

 

 

>  [cover by Eddie, as always, who spoils me with gorgeous art]

* * *

 

The god of death was one to be feared, many whispers and rumors surrounded his rise to power, his ascension to the throne made of tar and ash, forged in fire and smoke. Some said one could hear the screams of his mother and sisters while entering the gloomy gates, those who were unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire during the war for control of the Underworld.

But Percival did not concern himself with such matters. After all, he had the entirety of earth’s spring and solstices to take care of.

Everywhere he walked, flowers bloomed at his feet, and creatures smiled and trailed him as long as they dared, hoping to get a glimpse of his effervescent smile. Percival Graves, bringer of life, and lord of Spring and giver of sunshine.

As he tiptoed past a nest of freshly hatched snakes, he wondered why those that feared them would call them evil. They were just as innocent as any other animal, with a less fortunate shape and form.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let the humans hurt you.” He murmured to them, shrouding them carefully in a mist that made them appear softer, fluffy with golden fur, and small pink ears. Until they were full grown and could protect themselves, they would look like something more welcome.

And on he went.

There was a stream bubbling nearby, and a convention of water nymphs weren’t far, but Percival did not wish to distract and delay with them, entertaining as they could be. He was far more work minded, and duty focused.

The pretty words and prettier faces would only serve to anger the humans when their spring was late, or their summer dragged on and did not properly bleed in fall. Then they would neglect their sacrifices and prayers, and Percival would grow weary. He’d barely finished avoiding the river that ended in a pond in a glen when he heard thunder rumbling, roaring overhead, and the sky burst forth an unexpected gloomy storm.

He was not afraid of lightening or becoming drenched, but it was rather annoying to be dripping everywhere and causing unnecessary clusters of lilacs to grow underfoot. They did not belong here, by the water. River lilies would have been more fitting, but Percival could not control his own creations sometimes. “Come now, come now, this won’t do.”

He carefully plucked them from the earth and turned them back into himself, pressing his fingers together to dissolve them into his skin. A voice broke through the quiet pitter patter of rain.

“Forgive me. My mind tends to wander.” Percival started, and nearly fell over as the nearby shadow he’d taken for a tree began to move, stepping forward to lift a head with hair dark as pitch. Long limbs unfolded, like a pale flower shrouded in night, with pink lips, and brown eyes framed by long lashes. Taller than even him, and still as a statue, Percival couldn’t look away. Despite the morbidity of it all, Percival wasn’t sure he’d ever seen something so beautiful in all his life. “Are you… a child of Poseidon?”

He knew no one else who could control the weather, nor seem so peaceful while containing utter volatility. The young man, for they were that, not a child after all, nor a boy, he was quite ethereal. If not for the tone of his voice, Percival might have suspected a _daughter_ of one of the gods walked beside him.

“No. But you flatter me with such mistaken suspicions.”

The very air around him seemed colder, dank and as if he was absorbing all light that Percival emitted, by the time they reached the clearing of the glen, it was still cloudy, and he felt chilled to the bone. “You must be a descendent of the Barebones.” He knew it was a foolish accusation, but he could not help wondering.

He looked over just in time to catch a hint of a smile, a quirk to those strangely soft looking lips, and the young man tilted his head, sending dark curls cascading down a pale neck, spilling over his rather square shoulder, obviously even beneath his heavy cloak. He let his gaze wander down, and he noticed with every step the Barebone made, the green died, and turned to mulch, even as slender legs, pale as death, barely emerged with the movements.

“You’re him.”

“Indeed. Do I not frighten you, lord of spring?”

“It’s Percival.”

The lord of death, god of the Underworld, usurper of the former goddess, merely smiled a touch wider, and stopped, holding out a hand, slim and pale as the rest of him, so that Percival could stare at it, and wonder if his own death was imminent.

“Call me Credence. I think formality is pointless among us. Do you disagree?”

“What do you want from me?”

Credence blinked, and gently dropped his hand, crossing his arms beneath his cloak, heaving a slow sigh, “I want what all creatures want. To feel alive. I thought killing my mother and taking her crown would help me. But all I got was power. I do not feel any different, I merely have larger responsibilities than bearing her anger and bowing under her whip. Do you understand?”

Percival was stunned. He was not aware of the story behind the stories about what had occurred. “What sort of woman hurts her own child?”

“The dead kind.”

Percival knew he should leave, shrink away, and protect himself above all, but instead he felt drawn to the god, wishing he could do more than bear the burden of listening. He followed the god until they came upon a meadow, glowing with life, shimmering as the rain began to abate and all that remained were dew heavy flowers, and great swathes of soft grass.

“Can you possibly walk among them, and not destroy them?”

Percival realized a split second too late how cruel he sounded, and begged apologies, falling to his knees before the god, clasping his hands behind his neck, prepared to die for his insolence.

“I merely wish to grant you audience longer, my lord, but without undoing all the work I have wrought.”

“Shh-hh. I understand. I am not heartless, Percival. Wherever I lay my cloak, not a single bloom shall perish. So long as we remain over it, your creations will be safe.”

Percival dared to glance up, and found Credence rolling his shoulders, shedding the magnificent shadow which he’d worn, to drape it over a large portion of the meadow. All that he had now, was his own skin. Every inch of the god of death was pale, for he never spent time in the sun, and though he was all long angles and sharp edges, he looked to Percival again, with a hint of fragility in his dark eyes.

He was completely nude.

It was enough to make Percival feel overdressed in his own tunic, but he did not have the words to form his gratitude, or to ask questions. Instead, he silently nodded, and followed over to where the god was reclining, splayed out and contrasting greatly with his cloak.

“Do I make you uncomfortable with my form? I have heard talk that many spring nights begin with an orgy among nymphs and sprites. Is this a lie?”

Percival choked on his own saliva, and hastened to correct. “I may have witnessed such a thing, but it has been a long time since I participated in any sorts of activities.”

“Ah. I see. Is it true what they say about those events? That they can be so loud, and so satiated as to shake the earth?”

Percival was certain his face was bright pink as the lord’s mouth, or even the very end of his groin, but he nodded. “How marvelous. I wish I could host such a thing. I suspect, no one would want to attend if they knew it was in the Underworld.”

He looked so sad, and almost hurt, Percival didn’t know what to do, so in lieu of a response, he knelt beside the god, and leaned in to kiss him. The answering gasp he received told him the gesture was not unwelcome, merely unexpected.

Credence’s hand was cold on his back, urging him closer, until he was bracing himself up on his arms, half straddling the god’s slender waist. At the first press of something between his lips, a shocking introduction of the god’s tongue, Percival pulled back, “Are you-?”

Credence’s eyes were half closed, and his lips parted, as a hand cupped Percival’s face, caressing his cheek, “You wish to give me an example? How kind of you.”

Percival stumbled over his words, protesting that had not been his intention, but Credence was already pulling him down for another kiss, a touch rougher, as the god’s hips jolted up, grazing the accidental arousal forming under his tunic. “Come closer. Warm me up.”

He took that to mean it was alright to collapse over the god, so he lowered himself completely, and Credence immediately rolled them over, so that Percival was pinned beneath him, with only the softness of the god’s cloak to prevent him from the chill and damp of the meadow.

“I would have you. If you would like. I’ve always wondered what life tastes like. Surrounded by death and decay, I suppose, it’s got to be wonderful.”

Percival was at a loss, but he just nodded, and allowed Credence to put a curious hand between his legs, lifting his tunic to reveal his hardness, hot against the god’s cooler skin, and somehow aching for more than simple touches.

He did not want to push, so he fisted his hands in his tunic to occupy them, and tugged it up, and off, tossing it away into the nearby grasses. Now they were both bared to one another’s gazes, with only the cloak for protection, should anyone pass by. “Would you like more, now?”

Credence was saying, the heat of his breath a surprising contrast to Percival’s inner thighs, and he nodded, unsure how to say yes more emphatically. A slow steady drag of lips up the line of his prick, and then Percival was making an obscene noise, while his eyes were forced shut, and the press of a cool tongue to the slippery head of it was granted.

Both of the god’s hands were strong and braced on Percival’s hips, holding him back from trying to thrust forward or up, ensuring that Credence could only give him what _he_ wanted, nothing more, nothing less.

By the time Credence descended to take as much of Percival’s length into his mouth as possible, he thought he might cry from the blinding sensations coursing over him. A touch of a hand never felt that good, nor did the softest moss beneath his senselessly rutting hips.

“Come along now, finish for me.” Credence was teasing, barely flicking his tongue into the wet slit, before taking one hand to tug over Percival’s prick, indeed, forcing him to spill over himself, and allowing Credence to follow every stripe of his seed as it landed on his skin, quickly cleaned by the god’s wicked tongue.

As Percival tried to still his breathing, normalize his heartbeat, Credence tormented him further, kissing and suckling his belly, and along up the side of his ribs, nipping at his skin, and then fingertips were tracing over his softened groin. “Is that good? Are you pleased?”

“Yes, yes, very much.” He wanted to ask what he tasted like, but as it happened, there was no need, Credence was hovering over him, like a beautiful and deadly spirit, dipping in to kiss him, pressing their lips together, only to part them again upon the soft intrusion of the god’s tongue, still wet with his seed.

It was rather sweet, a touch bitter, and warm.

“Shall I-?”

Credence hummed, and shook his head, “No. I wish to have you. Right here. In your meadow, upon my cloak. Shall I tell you how?”

Percival inhaled sharply, and shook his head. He knew. He’d seen many couplings of similar creatures, seen trios of dryads and nymphs, and even a quartet once handle the same sprite.

“You do not mind my mouth on you?”

He shook his head, and Credence once again smiled, before slowly kissing his way back between Percival’s legs, urging them wider open, so that he might expose the secret opening behind his groin. “No one has ever had you before.” He said it, not like a question, so that Percival was spared the indignity of lying, and he merely sighed. The first touch was of the god’s tongue, and barely there, just enough wetness to allow him to feel a breath, and then fingertips rubbed over him, trying to coax him to relax enough to let Credence press one in fully.

His mouth was still hot and slippery on Percival, and it made him writhe and squirm in dark pleasure at the mere idea, though he could feel his prick once more surging to hardness, he refrained from touching himself. He merely took what Credence gave him. It just so happened to be that when he had two fingers inside Percival, as well as his tongue, all he needed to do was curve them just so, and Percival was crying out, spilling onto his abdomen again, a smaller amount of seed, but no less of a magnificent climax.

Stars were lingering in his eyes, behind closed lids, as he could feel Credence adding a third finger, spreading him wider, legs braced on the god’s shoulders, as he moved his tongue up to tease along his softened length, not quite cleaning him. In fact, he put his free hand to the mess, and then withdrew his fingers, to replace them with the slickened ones. Credence was pushing his own seed into him, as if he thought he might torture Percival with the mere idea of breeding him. “This is where I will have you. You may say no. Tell me. Do you want me?”

Percival could not deny the god, not when he was still tingling with ecstasy, dizzy with the wonder of two subsequent climaxes. He wanted to be good, to do good, and to please the god. “I want you.”

Credence once more let go of him, to return above him, and slowly rolled his hips down, just giving Percival an idea of how he felt over him, not even inside him. He wanted it. He _craved_ it. “Please.”

Credence shuddered over him, and their lips met with intense fervor, while Percival could feel the god’s prick drooling onto his skin, before being guided inside him, slowly easing past the first clench of muscle. He let his legs part as much as he could, until Credence huffed a breath against him, and murmured that he could _cling_ if he liked, urging him to wrap his legs around the god’s slim hips, hooked at the ankle behind his own backside.

With every inch that slid into him, Percival could feel the need to cry and the need to plead for more warring in his mind. It was like nothing he’d ever known, the way his hands scrabbled for a hold on the god’s back seemed to please him, as he could see Credence smiling even as he moaned, and then promptly ducked down to bury his face in Percival’s neck, hips moving quickly. His thrusts became uneven and rapid, as he could feel Credence’s breathing speed up, and his body tremble. “I’m close. I’ll ruin you forever, if I spill inside you.”

Percival had no idea what he could possibly mean, but he welcomed it nonetheless.

“Go ahead.”

Credence made his first desperate noise, and went still over Percival as he came, his length jabbing deep, and pulsing for so long inside him, until he was certain that time had stopped, and he was simply imagining it all, lost in a dream. A hand slipped between their bodies, and fingers curled around his neglected prick, urging him to come, as Credence began to withdraw, and rolled to the side, panting for air, still caressing him, gently pulling his arousal from him in steady strokes. He shivered through it, and his prick yielded nothing, even as he felt copious spend beginning to leak from between his legs. “I’ve ruined you.”

“I do not mind. I will be reborn anew with the next harvest. You have nothing to fear, my lord.”

“But I have. I have stolen you. For as many times as you’ve been granted release, so those many months you must spend in my company. The Underworld, it is no place for a lord of life.”

Percival smiled, and actually laughed, breathlessly.

“And you? If I bring you to your pleasure once more, shall we be even? I can join you for those three months gladly, the darkness of winter, the middle of summer?”

Credence glanced over at him, eyes glimmering with tears, as his kiss reddened lips wobbled, “Would you want such a thing? I can undo it. I can.” He sounded sad, but determined, and Percival shook his head, before leaning over, kissing the god without a trace of fear or regret. “Don’t you dare.”

His hand skittered down the pale expanse of the god’s chest, and gently petted the downy dark hair above his groin, not intending to tease, but quickly making Credence’s breathing hitch, and he smiled. “Let me.”

He knelt for the god before, and he did so again, now, bracketed inside snow white thighs, and finding his penance as he put his mouth to the silky pink of Credence’s prick, tasting what he supposed death and darkness should be. It was bitter and sharp, like the god’s hipbones, and yet somehow addictive, alluring. He remained there, as he felt Credence begin to grow hard again, so he eased lower, and lower, until he could stroke a hand below the god’s prick and sack, a line drawn on his body as if to aid, to help him find what he sought.

A winking pucker of skin that fluttered upon Percival’s touch, and made Credence’s prick move and glisten at the head, as his entire body quaked. Percival could only think that having a brush with death, yet no fear of coldness and aching bones, the sole reward of granting release once more to the god was what drove him on. He closed his eyes, and pressed in, moving his tongue and pursing his lips as best he could imitate what had been done to him. When Credence’s hand found his hair, he blindly smiled, and tightened his hands on the god’s waist, gripping his sides to ensure he knew, he was there, he was willing, he would not leave until they were even.

Credence’s second climax was found merely from that, Percival’s dutiful devouring and possessing of the god’s sacred and forbidden hole, before he’d even dared put a hand to him, he opened his eyes to watch Credence’s back arch, and his prick drool several lines of white onto his skin, dripping off onto the cloak. Defilement or not, Percival was short of breath, and needed a moment to recover, panting against Credence’s thigh, he got his strength back, and resumed his task.

Fingers gently petted his hair, and caressed his scalp, so that he smiled into the god’s skin, and carefully put a fingertip over Credence’s hole, seeing that he was allowed to do so, to prove he could learn by feeling. Even as he ground his own hips down, trying to stave off and ignore his own blossoming arousal, he could not focus on that, he could not bare to give up a fourth month, everything would die without him. He owed the god that and he would pay, gladly. But no more than that.

Credence’s voice was a murmur, a cry, a groan, as he came again, and Percival could relax at last, moving up to be pulled into the god’s arms, held near to his chest, and tucked safely under his cloak, still not touching the meadow. It was safe from death. He drifted off to sleep with the unbeating heart of the god’s under his cheek, and a hand tenderly holding the back of his neck.

“My love.” He heard Credence whisper, “My life.”

He could be that, he could be the world’s provider and death’s light.

 

* * *

 

 

**End**

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~ *blows kisses* for the lights of my life. ~
> 
> this has been ready for posting for a while, but i wasnt. i've also been having a rough time of it here and IRL in general. i hope anyone who may want to keep in touch with me from tumblr finds me on twitter or discord.  
> thank you for reading.


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